


Grounded

by imaginentertain



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, Robert Sugden is a broken man, and everyone missed it, because everyone was looking somewhere else or dealing with their own lives, in which I have a lot of feelings about Robert's mental health, in which Robert is having an Apollo 13 style breakdown, mental health warning, nothing graphic or dwelt on, pain pain and more pain, purely a reaction thing, references to Aaron's past, vague hints at Something Very Bad indeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginentertain/pseuds/imaginentertain
Summary: It's one of those things that you can see coming a mile off.  In hindsight that is.  All of the pieces were there and when they start comparing notes it becomes really obvious that Robert Sugden is in the middle of a breakdown so spectacular that if it had happened in space it would rival Apollo 13.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hissingmiseries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hissingmiseries/gifts).



> So yesterday was Ellie's birthday. I offered fic, she gave me a prompt, this was the result. Not quite what either of us expected but here it is anyway.

It's one of those things that you can see coming a mile off. In hindsight that is. All of the pieces were there and when they start comparing notes it becomes really obvious that Robert Sugden is in the middle of a breakdown so spectacular that if it had happened in space it would rival Apollo 13.

If this were a car Aaron'd have it sorted out in hours, a day at most. If this were Liv then he might not be able to fix it, but he's learned to trust in the healing powers of Ben & Jerry's, a couple of good movies on Netflix, an open invitation to Gabby, and making himself scarce. His mum needs cups of tea (or if it's late enough, glasses of wine) and an ear to bend for an hour or two. Cain just wants pints and no one to talk to him. Paddy just wants to talk and they'll end up talking about something that has nothing to do with the initial problem.

Aaron knows how to be there for just about everyone in his life, except the one person who needs him the most. And damn, if it doesn't terrify him to his core that he has no idea how to support his husband.

_Dingle, we have a problem._

 

 

 

 

Victoria can't look at him anymore, or at least that's what Aaron believes. She thinks he of all people should have seen it coming.

(She's right. He should have.)

But he didn't and she didn't and today's the day her brother is coming home so she's trying at least. Adam, bless him, is stuck firmly in the middle and so he's coping by not taking sides. Whenever Robert's name is mentioned he changes the subject, fakes a need for the bogs, or on one occasion he picked up his silent phone and answered a call that wasn't there, just so he could walk away.

They leave him out of it now.

She mentioned once, out of bravery or spite or misguided affection that maybe Robert should come home to hers, give him a bit of space. Aaron had squared off his shoulders, set his jaw, and growled that his _husband_ was going nowhere but home and if she thought for one second that he would be anywhere else then he didn't care how pregnant she was: he'd fight her.

(That had been the one time that Adam had gotten involved. Vic was one thing, the baby was off limits.)

Point made, Victoria didn't bring it up again. Liv offered to put a call into Environmental Health about Vic's pies (now available at _David's_ and online: a taste of the Dales in a dish) but Aaron gently chided her and said they couldn't be that petty.

Still. At least Liv wasn't blaming herself anymore if she was planning revenge.

 

 

 

 

The Dingle massive are scary when they work together towards a common goal. It rarely happens, them being so united without a single dissenter. Closest they ever got in recent times was "Aaron deserves to be happy—", it's just the ending of that phrase which changed: those that accepted Robert; those who tolerated him because he was married to one of their own and he'd drunk from the welly so he was one of them.

It meant little most of the time: putting their own in hospital or graves wasn't uncommon. But in times like this? It meant everything.

Chas barred anyone who talked about Robert in anything other than positive and hopeful tones. One whiff of anything else and they were out, profits be damned. Aaron had even heard her defend "her boy" to one reporter, looking for an angle on the Story of the Week. Emmerdale's own Apollo 13. The first time Chrissie walked in Chas' stare made everyone's blood run cold and she didn't even dare order her own drink in case Chas took exception to her tone. The added bonus of Cain's quiet promise that they would never find her meant that she'd taken to drinking elsewhere.

Lisa, bless her heart, was acting like Aaron had no idea how to cook or feed anyone and so the freezer at the Mill was full of stews and joints and pies. She'd even given Liv cooking lessons and so going hungry wasn't even close to being an issue.

Speaking of the Mill, it was picture perfect. Every last little job was done, including that door that never seemed to hang right no matter how much time or effort was put into it. Say what you want about Zak, the man was as master at fixing things.

Aaron wished he could teach him about fixing people, but Zak had pulled off his cap, rubbed his brow, and just sighed. He wished he could too.

 

 

 

 

It was pre-dawn when the car pulled down Main Street: the driver keeping their eyes firmly on the road as if looking anywhere else would lead to disaster; the passenger looking around as if they thought someone was about to catch them out, catch them doing something they shouldn't.

The car drove past the cottage, past the pub, around the corner and out of sight.

Chas let the curtain fall into place and she sighed. Now the real battle began.

 

 

 

 

Normality was key, that's what everyone said. It was important that Robert got back to his normal life as much as possible. The new normal though, the one where he was never left alone for long enough to—well, for a repeat performance to be possible. He swore to Aaron in the middle of the night that he wouldn't do it again, will never let it get that far again, and Aaron wants to believe him. He wants to believe that his heart is safe, that it will keep beating right alongside Robert's. That he won't ever feel it stutter and stop the way it had that day.

He wants to lie and say he believes him, but Robert knows him too well.

That had been the problem: knowing Aaron meant he knew how to hide things, how to distract him through misdirection and excuses. Now he's hypervigilant and they both know that nothing will be taken for granted again.

 

 

 

 

 

Robert sees Victoria without Aaron, and when he comes home he doesn't talk about what they talk about. Aaron allows him this secret because, while he may not like Vic very much right now, he knows she's pretty much the only other person in the world who loves Robert as much as he does (Liv protested and was granted a close second). She won't let him get back there anymore than Aaron would.

They don't play the Blame Game anymore but it bubbles away under the surface. How Victoria should have done more while Aaron was in prison. How Aaron should have done more when he came home.

The rest of the blame (Liv and Adam and Rebecca and Chrissie and the barrister and Chas and Faith and Sarah-but-not-really-because-she-couldn't-help being-sick and Gabby and those boys from Liv's school and Jason and Ethan and the whole fucked up legal system) was left untouched. They were fair game, could give as good as they got.

Made them feel less guilty.

Robert never blamed them, he didn't blame anyone. He just wanted his family back together.

 

 

 

 

They said they'd try.

 

 

 

 

Later.

 

 

 

 

And so time passes.

 

 

 

 

He gets better, he gets worse. There are nights when Aaron has to lock the door and hide the keys and threaten to pin Robert down on their perfect hardwood floor if he doesn't stop. He's staying here because he's wanted and he's loved and he's needed. He's not useless or a failure or dragging them down. His niece adores him and it's bad enough that she's growing up without one of her uncles, she's not losing another. And what about Liv? She'll talk to Robert about her love life because she can't talk to her brother about that kind of stuff.

Those nights are the longest and when Aaron doesn't make it to the yard because he's in no fit state to operate machinery Adam tells Vic who then calls her brother. It's an hour Aaron gets to himself, to shower and change. It's her turn to talk her brother off that ledge.

 

 

 

 

Robert sells his share of Home James, making almost 40% on what he put in. He invests in the garage after Cain is the one to offer him some work, something to keep him busy and out of trouble. If he's honest, Robert never thought Cain would be high on his list of babysitters and it's a few weeks before he figures out why: Aaron telling Cain that it's what they do, how they look after their own. Even if they're broken.

It's the only time Robert hears Aaron call him broken, and as he looks down at his clenched hands he finds that he quite likes it. At least Aaron's not in denial.

 

 

 

 

It's grounding somehow. The acknowledgement that things are not OK. Gives them something to build on after Robert took a metaphorical sledgehammer to everything that they thought they knew about their lives.

 

 

 

 

The day before The Day had been like any other day, and in hindsight the normality of it all scares Aaron. They'd had a lazy morning of coffee and kisses and sex. An afternoon of work and business and tying up of loose ends before the weekend. An evening of jokes about that door that sticks and the boxes in the spare room-stroke-office-stroke-something they didn't dare give a name to.

They'd fallen asleep together and Aaron had dreamed normal dreams until the alarm went off and he'd woken to an empty bed and a note and his whole world had changed.

 

 

 

 

Now if Robert gets up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he knows Aaron wakes up and listens for him coming back.

 

 

 

 

Victoria stops working at the pub, what with the baby and the pies and the Dingles she feels it for the best. She's successful and she's happy and Aaron finds that he still cares enough to be happy for her. He and Adam have found a way to protect their friendship, and the four of them know that one day things will get back to how they were.

Liv rocks her cousin to sleep and tells her brother that things are better now, phrasing it like a question because she needs that validation from someone else that she's not missing anything, not like she did before.

 

 

 

 

It's the elephant in the room: how they all missed Robert falling apart, how they all added to it. How their names were imprinted in every step that Aaron followed from his cold morning bed to—

 

 

 

 

Robert tells Aaron again that he wants the spare room to be someone else's room and Aaron finds the courage to put him off. He doesn't want to set him back but he also can't lie about something this important.

Instead of it breaking it seems to make them a little stronger, like the honesty is able to be there again. Perhaps, Aaron reasons, they're both a little less scared of things being that bad again.

 

 

 

 

He can't explain why that day or why that place. It's just where he ended up when he woke up, finally unable to keep on going the way that they had been. Aaron, so peaceful in sleep after so much pain. Robert, so broken and scared after so much effort.

 

 

 

 

It's not just his husband and his sister and his sister-in-law and his mother-in-law and his uncle-in-law and too many something-in-laws who he talks to. There's a whole line of professionals too. It takes him a few goes and a few months before he finds someone he's comfortable enough with to talk about as much of the whys and the hows and the ifs that he can find the words for.

It takes a little longer before he talks to his husband, favouring writing the words down so that he doesn't forget them. (He doesn't forget the way that the colour drains from Aaron's face when he sees another note on the table with his name in his husband's handwriting). He listens with a patience he didn't know he had and with a heart that he's always surprised to find that he has and at the end he just nods because he doesn't know any of the words the same way that Robert doesn't know any of the words.

He still can't really explain why, he just knows that he did. He wanted to so he did and he's still scared that he'll want to again.

 

 

 

 

Rebecca is light and breezy and distracts Robert from That Thing He Did and so Aaron actually starts to like her a lot. She pulls him out of himself and there's a moment, about six months after The Day, when Aaron stops and looks at this man who is doing the simplest of tasks in the kitchen and he can't stop himself from crying. When Robert asks why Aaron shakes his head and kisses him and takes him to bed and they are just two people in love who don't have all this stuff hanging over them.

It's so normal and everyday and Aaron wants it to be their normal and everyday for every day of their lives. Robert jokes that Aaron just doesn't want to do the washing up and Aaron doesn't smile at the joke, just kisses Robert and curls up in the crook of his arm.

Robert knows anyway. Some days it's all he thinks he knows.

 

 

 

 

He talks about that everyday moment the next day with his therapist. He talks about how it grounds him, how the simple task of sharing a home with people who have his heart and soul makes him feel a little less lost

A lot less sometimes.

He talks about being lost and the therapist dutifully asks the questions which get him to think about That Day and The Thing That He Did.

Two days later Robert takes Aaron by the hand, leads him down to the bridge over the river, and he tells him as much of the why as he knows.

 

 

 

 

Now Aaron knows more about what he's fighting he feels like he has a chance. It's weird, but it takes until Christmas for him to stop when he's in the shower, to trace the lines of his scars, and to realise that not once has he felt like adding to them. In all this mess, in all this hell, he's not once turned it in on himself.

He tells Robert this and Robert smiles. He honest to god smiles. He takes Aaron's hands and smiles and kisses him and for the first time in what feels like forever Aaron hears an honest and true laugh come from his husband's lips.

 

 

 

 

Just before a whole year has passed, Robert and Chrissie end up in the same space. It's unplanned and unwanted, and she throws some comment about him being so useless he couldn't even—

And Robert says nothing, does nothing. He shoves his hands into his pockets and he walks away. His feet find their way home, not to the Mill but to where he knows Aaron is. He tells Aaron what he already knew before today: he was found because he wanted to be found. Literally and metaphorically, he wanted to be found. And that was what kept him going, especially on the days where Aaron and Liv weren't enough. Not because they're not everything to him, but because there's a part of him that still hates himself for letting them down when they needed him the most.

(They still tell him it's not his fault. He still doesn't quite believe them. He's promised to try harder though.)

Robert is the one to say that he feels stronger for not going through with it. Liv is the one to say she loves him more for the same reason.

 

 

 

 

Aaron and Victoria manage a conversation without snapping or forced civility on the baby's first birthday.

 

 

 

 

They go as a family to the next session and the one after that. Aaron invites Victoria and Adam over for dinner. She has to cancel on the morning of, something about the baby, but he chooses to believe that the excuse was genuine and that it's progress. They talk about babies of their own and decide that they will decide when Aaron reaches 30. They talk about warning signs and what they will do if Robert – if any of them – feel like walking out of this home and this life that they're building together.

A line is drawn, in a random moment on a random day. This, they say, this is the point of no return. Aaron takes Robert's hand and then Liv's hand and he swears to them that this family? He will protect them. He will stand between them and the world when they need him to because they did that for him once. More than once.

He holds Liv close and he swears to her that he will keep their family, that they will always be a family.

He hold Robert even closer and whispers words of thanks: thank you for saving me, thank you for loving me, thank you for letting me help you.

The line is drawn and their lives start again, without That Day and The Thing That He (Almost) Did being a constant reminder. It's put in a box and shoved up into storage with the ones marked "Dads" and "Fire" and "Water".

It's there, but it's not part of their everyday anymore.

 

 

 

 

The ground feels a little firmer under Robert's feet

 

 

 

 

There was a day, a random day with no significance before and far too much afterwards, where Robert Sugden woke up and walked out of his home. He left his husband and his life, his phone and his car, and he walked until he reached the place he'd been thinking of. While he walked he thought of all the things that had gone wrong, all the pain and suffering. Of prisons and beatings and drugs. Of bullying and expulsions and drinking. Of work and pressure and family and loneliness that crept into his bones and didn't leave even when his best friend, his husband, his very soul came home to him. And he thought about his failures, of kisses that shouldn't have been. Of words that shouldn't have been said. Of support that he couldn't give because he didn't know how to.

There was a day, a random day, where Robert Sugden just—

—broke.

 

 

 

 

The thing about Apollo 13 is that they all come home. The problem is fixed and everyone comes back to solid ground.

 

 

 

 

They're not fixed, and the ground is... mostly solid. But they're doing OK.

 

 

 

 

Mostly.

 

 

 

 

That's enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm usually procrastinating on [my Tumblr](http://beautifulhigh.tumblr.com). Come say hi.


End file.
